


Rangoli

by Nox (Sheut)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Culture, Gen, implied racism and bigotry but only under a billion layers, tradition, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 07:16:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12930231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheut/pseuds/Nox
Summary: Some traditions are older than hatred.





	Rangoli

**Author's Note:**

> This is a vent fic. It's not been reread/corrected for tone or characterization. Those could've been probably better. Sorry.

Reinhardt smiled as he walked down the hallways of Watchpoint Gibraltar. It was quiet, and the usual bustle that he had come to associate with the base was missing in the early hours of the morning. 

_ It is nice to be back home,  _ he thought happily, stopping and looking fondly at the familiar photographs that decorated Lena’s door, the collection even bigger than he last remembered it being. His smile fell slightly as he caught sight of an older photograph on the edges of the collage. 

Ana, Jack, Gabriel, and a younger image of himself beamed up at him from the old photo. He lingered for a moment, letting himself dwell on the memories of better times before he shook his head and pulled away. Dwelling on the past would not help. 

He took a deep breath, letting the familiar smells of the Watchpoint ease his mind. The distant smell of grease from Torbjorn’s workshop, sharp tang of ionised air from Lena’s accelerator, the faint smell of the hall were all smells were familiar, comforting. The Jasmine - Jasmine? Reinhardt’s eyes snapped open, and he sniffed the air once more. There was no mistaking the heady scent of Jasmine lightly curling through the hallways. Intrigued, he followed the direction where the smell seemed to be coming from. 

His path brought him around the corner and straight into a slender woman. “Miss Vaswani!” He exclaimed as he took a step back and got a look at the person he had bumped into. “My sincerest apologies, I did not notice you.”

He watched as Satya Vaswani carefully adjusted the small containers of coloured powder in the dish she was holding before looking up at Reinhardt with a. “It is I who should be apologising, I was not paying attention to where I was going. I am sorry.”

Reinhardt laughed lightly. “I shall accept your apology, Miss Vaswani, only if you accept mine.”

Her lips turned upwards in a slight smile. “I suppose that is acceptable.” She nodded towards the window, tinges of orange slowly creeping up on the still dark sky. “It is quite early, I did not expect anyone else to be awake.”

"I fear that my sleep was...not restful." Reinhardt looked off to the distance, his eye losing a bit of focus. "The old ghosts I carry with me do not always come quietly."

“Ah. My apologies,” Satya said quietly.

Reinhardt smiled kindly down at her. “It is what it is, my friend. And yourself? It  _ is _ quite early after all.”

To his surprise, Satya looked a bit flustered as she glanced down at her tray. “Christmas is approaching, I thought I might make a rangoli to celebrate it. My amma used to make one every festival… Would it be okay for me to make one here?”

“Of course! May I join you?”

Satya looked at him in slight astonishment before nodding. He beamed and stood aside, gesturing for Satya to lead the way.

“I admit that I am surprised that you are interested in joining me,” she murmured as she set the plate of colour down and sat down cross legged on the floor in front of her door. Reinhardt followed suit, mimicking Satya’s actions and taking a pinch of white coloured powder in his own right hand, cupping underneath with his left. 

“It is something that brings you happiness. We are family!” he smiled at her, “I would be honoured to help.”

Satya smiled back in response as she started drawing the outline of a petal. “Making Rangolis is an old tradition in India. It is said that they bring good luck to the house where they are made. Ammi used to make them for every big festival, since we did not have enough money to afford the colour to make one every day.” She reached down and took some red, filling in the petal outlines and giving Reinhardt an approving hum as he copied her. “I did not get much opportunity to make them when Vishkar took me under their tutelage. It was… frowned upon.”

Reinhardt frowned slightly at that, but let her continue as she took some blue in her hand and filled out a spiral. “They said that religious and cultural symbols would lead to discord. Experience says that perhaps they were right.”

“You speak from experience?”

“Unfortunately.” Reinhart watched as Satya took some orange and started to work on another curl, bangles clinking as her hand deftly moved over the design, his the colour in his own forgotten. “Symbols have meanings attached to them - different ones for people from different cultures and walks of life. It is easy to forget that what might represent something peaceful for my people, might represent something more painful for others.”

He let out a small ‘ah’ of realisation at Satya’s explanation. “People were not very understanding then?”

Satya huffed a small sad laugh. “I suppose that is one way of saying it.” She looked up with a wan smile. “It is okay. I am now more careful about how I conduct things.”

There was silence as Satya finished the design, bringing a grin to Reinhardt’s face when she made a small Overwatch symbol beside the larger design. 

“It is beautiful, Miss Vaswani. A work of art!”

Satya ducked her head bashfully. “I am glad you like it, Herr Reinhardt.”

Reinhardt looked out of the window at the dawn, the sky now tinged with golden, orange and red hues. He stood up, offering a large hand to Satya who took it gratefully as she got up. “Would you like to join me for breakfast, Miss Vaswani?” He asked with a smile, “and perhaps later, help us create another beautiful Rangoli in the common room?”

“I think I would like that very much.”

**Author's Note:**

> Rant incoming. You might want to not read this. Or maybe do. Idk. Do as you please.
> 
> Honestly, this is written as a "please turn your hatred blinders off for a hot damn second" fic. I would like to remind people that things that might mean something to the western world, mean something entirely different to cultures in the east. Not everything is inherently bad. This fic is about the swastika, or the swastik. It's an ancient tradition that is older than hate, that is older than bigotry, that is older than people being murdering pieces of shit, it is a symbol that stands for peace and wellness. The word swastika is derived from the Sanskrit root swasti which is composed of su, meaning "good, well", and asti meaning "it is, there is".  
> You want to know what cultural appropriation actually looks like? This is it.  
> I'm not saying that people have to accept hatred. But I would like people to remember that some things mean quite a bit to others, and culture is one of them.  
> If you've stuck through reading this, thank you.  
> If you want to talk more about India, or Indian cultures, please feel free to message me. We are a country with a rich past and traditions and I love talking about my country.
> 
> \- Nox


End file.
